


Long Game

by socallmedaisy



Category: Fresh Meat (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socallmedaisy/pseuds/socallmedaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vod staggers into her room in the morning in a tank top and her underwear  and says, “I’m never drinking again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Game

The first time it happens Vod’s been leaning on her all the way home, arm slung low around her waist as she sways from side to side, ranting about something Oregon had stopped listening to three streets from their front door. No one else is home, and Oregon manages to get the door open, and half drag half carry Vod up the stairs away from the half full bottle of vodka still sitting on the table where they left it before they went out.

She kicks open Vod’s bedroom door and steps over the piles of clothes on the floor before dropping Vod on her bed, watching the way she bounces a couple of times from the force.

“Vod, take your shoes off,” Oregon says loudly, because she’s willing to forgive a lot of things when it comes to Vod, but sleeping in falling apart Doc Martens is not one of them, and Vod just mumbles something incoherent and pulls her hand up to cover her face.

Oregon watches her for a second but when she shows no further signs of movement she sighs and says, “Fucks sake, Vod,” to no-one in particular before reaching for her laces.

“Ugh,” Vod groans, kicking her feet away from Oregon’s hands, “What you doin’?"

“Taking your boots off,” Oregon pulls at the laces and then at the boots, until she’s tossing them by Vod’s desk, and then she leans over Vod and says, “Don’t smoke in case you set yourself on fire or something,” in a way she hopes sounds mean rather than friendly.

Vod doesn’t say anything, but she pulls her hand out of her trouser pocket all the same and nods a little. They stay there for a moment, and then Oregon’s saying, “Right then,” at the same time Vod pushes herself up on her elbow and kisses her clumsily, all teeth and tongues and not very good aim, before flopping back onto her back and closing her eyes.

Oregon just sort of breathes and watches her, brain struggling to catch up to what just happened, and then Vod starts snoring and she says, “Well then… lovely,” before she stands and shuffles out of the room awkwardly.

+

The second time, Oregon’s waiting in the grotty pub toilets when Vod stumbles out of a cubicle and pushes her up against the wall and kisses her like she has any right to. Vod’s hands are on her waist and Vod’s tongue is in her mouth, and Oregon has to fight hard not to moan and press herself closer against her.

When they come up for air, Vod sort of slurs, “It’s not like I’m—I mean, fuck men, yeah?” and Oregon nods and says, “Right, yeah, of course,” before she leans in and kisses her again.

+

Vod nudges her feet under the table when they eat breakfast and buys her fair trade flapjacks from the shop, and when they go to the pub she says, “I’ll get the drinks in,” before disappearing to the bar and coming back with double socos and coke.

Oregon drinks more than she should, and Vod’s slurring her words, and they stumble home with Vod’s arm round her shoulders possessively and a little bit of a swagger in her step.

+

The thing is they don’t really talk about it, and that’s just not how Oregon functions, so when Vod pushes her fingers under Oregon’s shirt and reaches for her breast she kind of startles and pulls back, saying, “Right, but the thing is—“ before she sees the look on Vod’s face and stutters to a stop.

“God, Oregon,” Vod says, fingers still playing with the hem of her t-shirt, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

“Yeah, I know,” Oregon stammers, “But—“

Vod sighs and pushes herself up off the sofa abruptly, swaying a little on her feet before grabbing for the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. She takes a long pull from the bottle, pulls her face a little at the taste, then points a finger at Oregon, still lying on the sofa, “See you later.”

+

Vod staggers into her room in the morning in a tank top and her underwear and flops down onto the bed next to her with a groan. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Well, yeah,” Oregon says, “But you always say that.”

“Mean it this time,” Vod rolls over, bringing her closer to Oregon’s side, and burrows her face into the covers.

“Right, yeah.” Oregon really wants to reach out and touch her, maybe run her fingers over her back or something, but she just swallows instead and stares at the ceiling. She’s silent for a minute, trying to think of something to say, listening to Vod’s breathing even out as she nods off again. It’s kind of ridiculous how quickly she falls asleep, and Oregon watches as she murmurs something unintelligible and her leg kicks out, bumping up against Oregon’s and resting there like it’s seeking the heat.

+

“Do you want to watch a film or something?” Oregon says later, when Vod wakes up. “I’ve got Notting Hill on my laptop. I downloaded it. Illegally,” she adds after a moment. She’s still holding herself apart from Vod kind of awkwardly, and it feels like she’s hanging over the edge of the bed, Vod stretched out next to her like she owns the thing.

Vod just gives her a look and says, “Notting fucking Hill?”

“Yeah, right. No, then,” Oregon stutters, “Shit film, isn’t it?”

“Little bit, yeah,” Vod says like it should be obvious, and then she rolls closer and reaches out a hand to brush against Oregon’s cheek as her eyes flutter shut, and Oregon thinks she hears her say, “Fucking adorable,” before she falls asleep again.

+

Vod has one hand inside Oregon’s bra and the other at the button on her jeans when Oregon pulls away and says, “You’re still drunk aren’t you?”

“Only had a couple,” Vod replies quickly, trying to pin Oregon against the wall with her hips, hand still reaching for the buttons.

“Yeah, but—“ Oregon bats her hands away and searches for Vod’s eyes. “Maybe we could be not-drunk. When we do—I mean, when we. We could be not-drunk. Just a suggestion.”

Vod rolls her eyes and straightens her t-shirt, hands smoothing down the front of it, “What are you talking about?” Her voice has gone kind of low, and she’s looking at Oregon pointedly, almost like she’s daring her to carry on.

“Vod,” Oregon says quietly, just looking at her.

“Yeah,” Vod says, taking a breath and a step away, “Yeah.” She stops before she disappears through the doorway and says, “I only had two drinks, by the way. I know what I’m fucking doing, alright?”

+

“Josie and Kingsley are going to the pub,” Oregon hovers in the doorway with a bottle of knock-off Malibu hanging loosely in her hand, unsure whether to enter or just stay there. “Josie wants to know if we’re going.”

“Not really in the mood,” Vod doesn’t even look up from her magazine, just flicks another page and keeps her eyes fixed on the images.

“Oh right, okay,” Oregon tries to hide the bottle behind her back, “I’ll, er—“

“Oregon,” Vod calls after her, and when Oregon turns back, Vod’s looking as awkward as she’s ever seen her, shifting her weight and looking anywhere but at her. “We could—shit. I thought we could stay in.”

Oregon nods, her fingers curling around the bottleneck, but what she says is, “I’m going to the pub.”

+

When she gets home, Vod’s sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, stirring a spoon around the cup and staring at nothing in particular.

“Good night?” Vod asks, as Oregon sits down next to her, leaning into her a little more than she probably should.

“Yeah. Josie and Kingsley went to get food,” Oregon pulls her feet up and tucks them under her, nudging Vod with her shoulder as she does so. “Sorry.”

“You don’t—fuck.”

“Yeah,” Oregon says, lowering her head to rest it against Vod’s shoulder.

Vod exhales noisily, and passes her the mug of tea.

+

“Finished your essay?” Vod leans up against the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles, and Oregon lets her eyes sweep down her body a little, before she remembers to look back at the library book propped open against her keyboard.

“Nearly,” Oregon says, fixing her eyes back on the screen.

“I finished mine. Fuckin’ easy once I got going.” Vod rolls her shoulders back and swings her arms, eyes sliding around the room before coming back to rest on Oregon. “You wanna get a drink?”

“I have to finish my essay,” Oregon says after a moment, sliding her fingers over the keyboard.

“Right, yeah.” Vod scowls a little and kicks back from the doorframe, “See you later, then.”

“Yeah,” Oregon echoes, watching her go.

+

When she finishes her essay and and goes to Vod’s room, Vod’s reclining on the bed taking a drag from a cigarette, and all she says is, “Took you fucking long enough.”


End file.
